


Concubine

by Steena



Series: Closer 'verse [5]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Crossfaction, Dubious Consent, Heartache, Heartbreak, Hurt, Love Triangles, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Sex Addiction, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 22:25:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14657469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steena/pseuds/Steena
Summary: Prowl arrives to Earth. Jazz has to choose between the cop cars.He chose wrong.Messed up relationships, cheating, and hurt. So much hurt...





	Concubine

**Author's Note:**

> Barricade's coping mechanism is very unhealthy. Jazz is an aft, and there's no happy ending in this piece, even if there's room to imagine it in the end.
> 
> Could be placed after Closer and Curiosity in this verse, with them having come to a point where their relationship is still a secret but pretty established.

"We need ta talk."

"Hm?" Barricade reluctantly onlines one optic, content resting with his helm on Jazz's shoulder in postcoital bliss.

"This,  _us_... We have ta stop."

Suddenly, he is fully online, frame going cold.

"What?! No!  _Why_ , Jazz?" He sits up, Jazz allowing him to move away.

"I... I can't keep doing this."

"But  _why_? We can keep it a secret, we've never had a problem with that! I-I... I can  _defect!_  You tell Optimus! We can be together."

He splays his servos pleadingly over Jazz's chestplates, desperate as he admits to himself that he is so much deeper in love than he thought.  _And Jazz is leaving._

"'m sorry, Cade. I... The mech who promised ta be my conjux has arrived on Earth."

Barricade works his intake without finding words. His spark is slowly crumbling to pieces. Jazz gets up from the floor.

"I... uhm... I need my glyph back."

_"Please_  Jazz. Don't do this. I love you." He whispers, even as he removes the glyph magnetized on the inside of his collar fairing, the glyph he got as a dangerous but wonderful sign that he was  _Jazz's._

"Nah, it's just a crush, Barricade. Ya know, jus' cause we 'face 'n' have fun when we meet."

  
_It isn't just a crush, but he can't even conjure up the words for what he truly feels._

"Him 'n' I... We go a long way back. Ye'll be fine. Ye'll find somebot special. A con jus' fer you."

And with those words, Barricade is left sitting on the floor as Jazz walks out of the warehouse and out of his functioning.

It takes him hours to get up to leave. He clings to the hope that Jazz will come back, that the Autobot will change his mind.

It's four in the morning when he finally heads back to base and while he's driving, an ugly realization hits him like Megatron's fist to the ventral plating.

_Jazz knew this when he called Barricade to meet up_. Jazz  _knew_  this when Barricade eagerly wrapped himself around the Spy, hot and heavy and ready to go. And still, he didn't stop him. Still he allowed Barricade to slip his glossa into Jazz's intake, still he let the Saleen paw and grab and lick and suck, reciprocated with touching and kissing. Still he  _fucked_ Barricade.  _Twice_. Before he told him.

Barricade transforms to rootmode with a scream that is thick with anger, hurt and betrayal. He totals three parked cars in a brutal swipe with his flail, because he can't come up with any other way to deal with emotions like this. It still leaves him empty.  _Hollow_.

 

 

*****

 

 

It doesn't get better. But along the line, his sparkache turns to anger.  _Jazz told him that he wanted to keep him forever._

So he winds up racing to the Autobot base, carefully not thinking about how he still hasn't told Decepticon command where it is.

He transforms and stands by the gates as Autobots comes out with their guns at the ready. Barricade hasn't cared about onlining his guns. If they are going to offline him, there's nothing he can do to stop them anyway. 

"What do  _you_  want, Decepticon?" Sideswipe snarls.

"To talk to Jazz." Barricade says and indicates the silver mech with a jerk of his chin.

The Autobots looks back and forth between them.  _Yeah, he knows Jazz's true designation. Deal with it._  Jazz comes up to the gate.

_Then he spots it_.

That glyph  _he_  wore on his collar fairing, his most well kept and most treasured secret. Now it sits on the chestplate of  _Prowl._  He feels his spark crumbling all over again, drying up and shriveling.

"Wow. What was  _I_ , they younger version stand in toy? A cruel personal _joke_  to berth?" He says flatly and crosses his arms, staring at Jazz. "Is he as kinky as I am? Would he suck your spike in a just abandoned battlefield too? Meet up after whatever smackdown was done and  _fuck_?" 

"Jazz? What's he talking about?" Somebot asks, insecurity in his voice.

"Maybe my  _brother_  has changed, but my guess is that you get spiked missionary style with the lights off every time nowadays." Barricade sneers bitterly.

Jazz doesn't answer and that's answer enough. Barricade is gearing up.

"You know, maybe you should show him how _I_  used to ride you, ride you good enough to save _every single fucking horse on Earth_. Or how about that time you fucked me against the wall just outside Mearing's office? I overloaded so hard, my optical feed froze." 

" _Jazz_?!" Ironhide growls.

"You were always so crude. Never knew you were a pleasurebot though. _Brother._ " Prowl speaks up, voice cold.

"Yeah, you're the  _eloquent_  one. Good thing for you that most mechs doesn't realized that you're forced to be, that using a little slang makes you  _glitch_. And enjoying interface hardly makes me a pleasurebot. You're the one who's frigid." Barricade says with malicious glee, foregoing to mention the irony of Prowl using pleasurebot as a derogatory term, considering Jazz's past as an  _entertainer_. If Jazz hasn't told the other Bots, Barricade won't be the one to out him like that.

It's quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

"Go ahead, Jazz. Go ahead and tell them. Tell them how you snuck out to meet me and frag me all night. Tell them how we would recharge tangled together afterwards. Tell them how you _told_  me you wanted to keep me  _forever_.  _Tell them!_  They should know what kind of Con-loving liar lives among them."

Prowl glares at Jazz, optics cold as a glacier and Barricade can't help but be spitefully happy about that.  _There won't be any missionary lovemaking tonight._

The picture in his helm of Jazz,  _his_  Jazz, splayed out under his glitched drone of a brother is a stab right through his spark.

"Jazz!" Sideswipe shouts.

"It's true. I was interfacing with Barricade." Jazz says, voice low.

A shouting match breaks out behind Jazz, but neither Spy, nor Interceptor pays it any mind.

"Are you thinking of me when he fucks you?" Barricade asks bitterly.

He can't be sure, but it looks like Jazz dips his chin in an almost imperceptible nod.  _He likes to think it is a nod._

"I'm happy for you. I wish you both the best." He says loud enough to be heard over the din, voice dripping with sarcasm.

_He hopes they will both be miserable._

With a bitter mock salute that ends with flipping Prowl the bird,  _Jazz has influenced him to pick up human lingo and signs,_  Barricade transforms and peels out. It isn't until he's certain he isn't being followed, and part of him wishes he were,  _that Jazz would come after him_ , he stops and allows himself to break and wallow in his sorrow.  _It should be him curling up in Jazz's berth tonight._

*****

 

 

He comes back to base late in the evening after the confrontation, having spent all afternoon and evening alone in the desert to try to get a handle on his hurt, his anger, to let go of Jazz.  _It didn't work._

"So, handsome..." Barricade purrs and slides onto the couch in the rec room next to Blackout.

The big mech turns his bright optics to the Interceptor. _Overcharged as usual._  Barricade makes it a point to let his optics slowly trail up Blackout's frame, sliding a digit along the inside of the Helicopter's thigh.

"Back for some more spike?" Blackout asks, optical ridge arched.

The big mech's servo slides straight to Barricade's interface panel and he rubs it too hard for the touch to really feel good.

"Come here and sit on it, why don't you?" Blackout says, opening his panel, pulling Barricade into his lap.

"Not  _here!_  I'd like to be in a berth." He's annoyed, because he doesn't want the entire base to see this, but still manages to sound fairly seductive. He thinks.  _Probably doesn't matter, the Helo is ready to go anywhere, anyhow._

"Fine." Blackout grunts and stands up, easily carrying Barricade with huge servos splayed on the Interceptor's aft.

Barricade wraps his arms around Blackout's neck, his legs around the Helo's waist and grinds against him, nips at plates and cables, tries so  _damn_  hard to show Blackout what he wants without saying it out loud.

_If only the mech could smash his back against the wall and kiss him senseless so he can really pretend that he's...._

He shuts that thought.

"My, you really are an eager little mech, aren't you?" Blackout chuckles.

"Yes." Barricade hisses and rubs against Blackout, needing the distraction of a hot frame. 

Blackout presses him against the wall, grinds his still pressurized spike against Barricade's panel with a hard buck of his hips.  _The movements aren't right._

"Sure you want to wait until we get to my berth?" The Helo growls as he pries at the edge Barricade's valve panel with a talon, as if he's going to just pull it open.  _Of course he wants anybot passing by to see that he's fucking Barricade instead of doing it in the privacy of his quarters._

"I'm  _sure_. Just get us there!" Barricade urges the big mech, still teasing seams in the Helo's plating with his glossa and digits.  _Like he would do to Jazz._

Blackout grins wickedly and walks with ease in spite of the mech hanging around his neck like a cybermonkey. Barricade is vaguely aware that they pass a mech in the hallway, but he doesn't really register it, too focused on nipping and touching, trying to get Blackout to do the same to him.  _Too focused on his fantasy of it being Jazz he's making out with._

"Looks eager." Somebot says.

"Needs to be fragged real bad." Blackout rumbles back.

"You lucky fragger."

_He needs to be fucked until he doesn't know_ who _'s fucking him._

Barricade is thrown on Blackout's berth, bounces on the foam mattress and the Helo comes crawling after him, grabs his thighs and pulls him closer with ease, just to pry at his panel again. Blackout is so much stronger than him, and that makes the Interceptor nervous all of a sudden. He is at the mercy of the Helicopter because the Decepticon probably doesn't exactly care about consent in the way Jazz did and Barricade  _did_  invite him to this. 

Barricade opens his panel before it's torn off but stares at Blackout's spike.  _The entire mech is huge, of course his spike is too_. Barricade remembers the time in the shower but seeing the Helo's spike still gives him pause.

"Wait! Prep me first?" He asks pleadingly.

Blackout resets his optics.

"What?"

"Come on, mech, you're  _huge_."  _So fragging ignorant._

Blackout takes it as a compliment and smirks.

"Prep me? With your... _probably won't use his glossa_ , I don't know, your digits or something?" He's embarrassed to ask, because he knows what Cons think of mechs allowing their valve to be used.

Barricade spreads his legs wider and slides his own digits over his node and into his valve, to show what he wants. He gasps as he touches all the right nodes, his other servo coming up to tease a sensor cluster under the plating on his chest.  _It isn't arousing to show off like this, like it was with Jazz. He just feels cheap when Blackout stares at him with hungry optics._

Blackout paws Barricade's array before sliding two thick digits into his valve, bright optics locked on where they slide in and out of Barricade.  _He's probably recording._

The Saleen offlines his optics and touches himself everywhere he likes to be touched, pretends his own servos are Jazz's. He strokes his own node while Blackout pumps his digits into his valve and Barricade can feel his lubricant dripping down his aft.

He overloads with a crackle of static in his vocalizer when another thick digit is added and the overload does feel good, eases some of his tension. He onlines his optics when Blackout chuckles.

"Such a needy little slut. I'm going to fill you up really good." 

He lines up and starts to slide inside, Barricade lifting his hips to better accomodate the length.

"Yeah, like that. Wanton little mech." Blackout groans.

The overload has left his valve supple and relaxed and he's very wet, the angle is better to take the huge mech than being fucked from behind. The Helo sits back, resting on his knees and the tips of his pedes, staring down to where he slowly slides in and out of Barricade, entranced.  _Definitely recording. Fragging aft._ The Mustang reaches down to rub his node himself and jerks with the first touch, already sensitive from his last overload.

He keeps touching himself all over, tweaking cables and wires, smoothing over his plating.  _Just like Jazz would have done._ He moans when he pictures Jazz as the mech fucking him.

Blackout is picking up his pace, chasing his overload, and leans forward to rest on his elbows, getting closer to Barricade. It's welcome, more intimate. _More like him._  Barricade wraps his legs around the Helo's hips, angles his pelvis to get friction on his node and clings to the large mech, the Interceptor's digits scrabbling over the plating on his back, his rotors. 

It sends Blackout over the edge and the stuttering of his hips gives Barricade the last nudge he needs, he overloads with a wail when the Helicopter bites down on his neckcables, filling him with transfluid.

_Hopefully Jazz saw that. He infiltrates the base as easily as he's venting and plants spyware everywhere._ Barricade  _wants_  the spy to know, to really _feel_  his digits rake down somebot else's plating.

The afterglow turns to emptiness. Blackout falls into recharge, a heavy arm over Barricade because that's where it happened to be,  _not because he wants to be close to the mech he just fragged into the berth_ , trapping the smaller mech. Barricade lies there in the puddle of transfluid, more fluid running out between his legs. His neck aches where Blackout bit him and he's sure he's going to have a telltale dent left for all to see in the morning. While they were at it, he felt better, felt wanted. Now, he just feels empty again.

 

 

*****

 

 

Jazz is chasing his prey, a wild chase after the cop car. He guns his engine, racing down the desert, gaining on his target. They reach the top of the hill, their goal and he stops, transforming smoothly. 

Engine running hot, systems charged up, he hesitates for only a fraction of a second before he pounces, wrestling the mech to the ground, straddling his hips.

Leaning down to nip at neckcables, he rubs his burning pelvic plating against the other's, talons slipping into seams, teasing wires. 

"Jazz. What are you doing?"

"'m charged up by lookin' at yer sweet aft. I wanna have a li'l fun." Jazz says, licking a cable, servos roaming the frame under him with urgency.

"Out here. In public." The mech states flatly, voice tinged with disapproval.

"There's nobody fer miles 'n' miles..." Jazz says, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden, still straddling the stiff mech. 

"Is this the kind of lechery you engaged in with  _him_? You were not indecent and wanton like a pleasurebot before." Prowl bites out.

"I dunno, I jus' thought we could... maybe wrestle a li'l 'n' maybe make out ta relieve tha charge after tha drive... or somethin'?" He mumbles, feeling incredibly stupid.

"You're clearly mistaking me for my brother." Prowl says coldly.

"I'm  _not_..." Jazz protests.

"You think  _I_  would enjoy rolling around in the  _dirt_? That  _I_  would like to interface outside, like some sort of  _technimal_? Or how about like a cheap  _pleasurebot_?! Interfacing with all and sundry, in dirty alleys and anywhere else that seems fitting at the moment, for a few credits. Like my  _brother_? I never thought  _you_ would stoop to engage in such lewd behavior."

Jazz finds himself unable to meet Prowl's optics.  _He's right that Jazz made a mistake. If he'd been racing Barricade, they would still be wrestling in the dirt, tickling each other. Laughing_.  _Then they would 'face, rough and tumble to get rid of the itching charge, then again, slow and sweet, to enjoy each other's frame and company._   _They'd probably recharge for a while, all tangled up, under the stars before being forced to part._

"'m sorry Prowl. But I don' mistake ya fer  _'im_."

"I did not think you did, not really." Prowl soothes him. "I  _will_  take care of that charge for you tonight, sweetspark. In the privacy of our own quarters. And please, do mind your language. Your accent is appalling."

"Yes, Prowl. I am sorry that I made you upset."  _It leaves a bitter taste in his intake, and all he can think about is the last time he was in this place, when he had Barricade writhing underneath him. How that picture is now tainted with prejudice, the way the memory is stained with a stamp of it being dirty and lewd. How cheap he feels for having enjoyed that._

*****

 

 

He winds up faking his overload, old pleasurebot coding put to good use. It's the same as usual. Lights off, he's on his back, legs splayed, and his partner ruts into him slowly, carefully. His node is touched with gentle digits, lipplates are pressed against his in almost chaste kisses and when his partner overloads, it's with a modest grunt and a low gasp and then it's over. 

Prowl is in recharge when Jazz sneaks out, the Spy slipping out from under the servo placed gently on his shoulder, their only point of physical contact.

He goes to the surveillance room, empty of mechs at this hour, and as usual, he logs in on his spyware network, flipping between the different cameras he hass placed in the Decepticon base.

It takes 46 tries until he finds the right one, but as usual these days, he almost wishes he hadn't succeeded.

Barricade is pushed up against the wall in a hallway,  _by Dreadbot this time_ , moaning and clawing at the bastard's backplates with every thrust into him, biting and nipping and licking with abandon.  _Passionate_.  _As always_.

"You like that, don't you? Little tramp." Dreadbot growls when Barricade overloads with a wail and goes limp.

Jazz just wishes he could shut the monitor, cut his optical feed, but his optics are glued to the sight.  _As every other time he torments himself like this, watching whoever fucking_ his _Saleen._

Both mechs on the screen sinks to the floor when Dreadbot overloads. Barricade leans against the wall but the other mech gets up almost immediately.

"Frag you later." He snickers as he saunters off.

  
_It should have been Jazz fucking Barricade, then he would carry him back to berth and recharge tangled with him._

 

 

*****

 

 

He has gained a reputation. 

_Base whore. Slut. Pleasurebot._  

Barricade doesn't really care, not anymore.  _It's true anyway._  He spreads his legs for anybot interested, chasing those short moments when he feels needed.  _Wanted._  

Like now. Half the crew has been circling him all night, hitting on him, and that's flattering in itself. 

_They want him_.

Now sees him bent over the table, Onslaught holding him with strong servos on his hip and shoulderwing as the anti aircraft truck ruts into him, spike on the verge of being too big slamming into the smaller grounder's valve in a way that's borderline uncomfortable, but Barricade allows that, because they like that about him, his pliancy. It keeps them coming back.

_They all want him._

He overloads, relishing in the short moment of oblivion when all he feels is physical bliss and his mind goes blank.

Then the spike inside him slips out and Onslaught lets go of him, drops him like yesterday's newspaper, like they all do as soon as they're finished. 

_They only want to fuck him._  

And all he's left with is dents where uncareful servos have grabbed him, transfluid in his valve and emptiness in his spark.

 

 

*****

 

 

"We should bond." Jazz says to Prowl.  _For the 457th time during their very long relationship._

"Not now. It would be very unwise to bond in the middle of the war." Prowl answers.  _The same answer every time._

"But ya promised me..." Jazz pouts.

"My tactical computer has come to the conclusion that we should wait until the war is over."

" _Fuck_  that! Tha war might  _never_  end! Let's jus' do it." Jazz growls in frustration.  _Prowl's superior tactical computer is a trade-off for some of his emotional protocols. Sometimes it's incredibly hard to live with for Jazz, a mech of emotions. Of passion._

Prowl gives him an icy stare.

"You were not this temperamental and foul-mouthed before our stasis. Is it my worthless brother who has influenced you while he seduced and corrupted you?" He bites out.

"Don't blame this on Barricade. I'm jus' bein'  _me_. I'm tired o' waitin'."

"Ah, so  _that_ is why you jumped into berth with that cheap pleasuredrone. You were tired of _waiting._  So you fell for the deceptive games of my little brother and let him frag you while you waited, effectively making yourself a traitor, fraternizing with the enemy. I thought you were smarter than that."

"I didn't know he was yer brother! We've fought battles together against 'im Primus knows how many times, 'n' ya never told me ya're brothers!"

"My tactical computer did not calculate it as necessary. But then, I did not put the possibility of you being tricked into an affair by him into my calculations."

"He didn't  _trick_  me! He was in heat the first time and I..."

"You just could not stop yourself from sticking your spike in him. And then you could not refrain from doing it over and over again."

The worst part is that Prowl doesn't show much emotion. The difference between angry, disappointed, happy are so subtle, Jazz wonders how much he actually feels. And that brings the question how deeply he loves, a question Jazz rather wouldn't have had popping into his processor, because once it's there it refuses to go away. It sits there and festers, as he runs out of the hab suite. He's being a coward, fleeing, but he just can't be there anymore.

 

 

*****

 

 

Barricade freezes, spark spinning wildly when  _that_  comm request comes through. So many emotions passes through him, he can't quite settle on just one.

"What do you want?" He bites out. No coy teasing this time.  _He can't take the rejection again._

"Dunno. Just... I wanned ta hear yer voice, I think."

"So, now you've heard it."  _How's he supposed to interact with his ex-lover, the mech he tries so hard to not still be in love with?_

"Oh, Primus, Barricade... I'm so fuckin'  _sorry._ I didn't mean fer it ta be like this."

"Too late. You chose him. Hope you're happy."  _Not._

"I...ah...  _Frag_." Jazz sounds so worn. Not his usual cheer, none of his smooth jokes and easy laugh. Just a rough voice laced with exhaustion and sadness.

"Trouble in paradise?" Barricade can't resist asking.

"Ya could say tha'." Jazz laughs bitterly.

"Wanna go for a drive?" He blurts the question before his processor-vocalizer filter can stop him and he braces for the decline, the rejection.

"Sure. I need ta get out of here."

Barricade's spark feels like it's exploding. It spins too fast as he shakily gives Jazz coordinates to a good place to meet up.

 

 

*****

 

 

Jazz is already there when Barricade arrives, standing still in altmode, engine idling. Barricade knows what to do. He flashes his lights and Jazz does a one eighty before he peels out, the Saleen hot on his heels.

_Just like they used to do._

He chases the Spy down the road, lights flashing as a cover up for the few and far between human vehicles. Barricade hears Jazz's engine rev, sees how he goes from pushing himself angrily to blow off steam to starting to play and enjoy himself as his tension is worn down by the exertion, the wind whipping around him, the thrill of being chased.

The silver Solstice veers off the paved road, taking a dirtroad out into the desert, the Mustang following close by, shutting his lights. Barricade's spark is doing backflips with nerves, because they have been here before and he remembers  _that_  time but he doesn't want to assume anything. Jazz might just want to talk in private.

They reach the canyon he knows so well and Barricade transforms, uncertain what to do. So does Jazz, the spy tackling him with a hug immediately.

"Primus, I  _missed_  ya, Cade." Jazz mumbles into his neckcables, hugging the Interrogator hard.

Barricade slips his arms around the Spy's waist hesitantly, doesn't really know what to do. He invents, fills his olfactory sensors with the smell of  _Jazz_  and something twinges in his spark.

"I missed you too." He warbles, because he finally has his arms full of Jazz.

They stay locked like that for minutes, just holding each other.

Then Jazz's servos starts to roam Barricade's plating, talons slipping into seams in that way only Jazz's talons do, in all the right spots.

Barricade hesitantly smooths his servos over Jazz's plating.

_He should stop this. There's still so much wrong between them, so much talking that needs to be done._

But his spark is swelling in it's chamber as Jazz's lipplates grazes his neckcables and Barricade is just too greedy because the Spy is actually here...

_Here, in his arms. Not at home, with the Mustang's brother who clearly has messed up really bad. Here, with_ Barricade,  _field heavy with want and need, servos touching him in all the right ways..._

Then Jazz's lips reaches his, his glossa coaxes the Saleen's denta to fold back flat and he falls into the kiss that's so full of want and pent up emotions, he can't think straight.

_It feels like coming home._

Jazz pulls him to the ground, knees his legs apart and Barricade's panel pops the second the spy touches it. Digits that knows his frame so well coaxes him to be wet and ready in minutes, while Jazz licks and nips at his plating. 

"I missed ya so much. I need ya." Jazz murmurs into his chestplates.

His spike slides into Barricade's valve and the Interceptor bucks up to meet him, wraps his legs around the Spy to get him closer.  _Primus, he missed this,_ needs  _it, like humans craves water._

The ridges of Jazz's spike feels so very  _right_  inside him, touching all the nodes inside in that perfect way and it doesn't take long for Barricade to overload, while Jazz kisses him in that way nobot else does and Barricade is lost in the all-encompassing rightness.

Jazz brings him down from his peak with gentle touches, soft kisses on his neck and a slow slide of his still pressurized spike. Then he touches Barricade's anterior node carefully, grazes it with his talons to start building his charge again and Barricade's frame complies instantly.

The Interceptor pulls Jazz's helm down to lock their intakes in another kiss, feverish with raw want, even as his hips bucks under Jazz's skilled ministrations. He pushes his pedes against Jazz's aft to get him deeper and the pressure against his node makes him overload again, back arching, vocalizer humming feedback. Jazz follows him over with a moan before he slumps on top of Barricade.

"You're so beautiful.  _Perfect_." Jazz murmurs, stroking along Barricade's side.

Barricade can't find any words to say. He kisses Jazz's neck, let's his servos roam to map out every plate, every piece of armor he can touch on the Spy's frame.

Jazz slips into recharge and Barricade just relishes they way their fields mingle, the powerful thrum of Jazz's spark he can feel through his chestplates until he nods off too.

 

 

*****

 

 

No matter how much Barricade wishes they could stay here forever, eventually they have to go. 

They stand there, awkward in a way they never were before, because they still haven't talked.  _Just enjoyed being close again and for these hours, Barricade has felt whole, for once._

"So, what happens now?" He asks.

"You go to your base, I go to mine." Jazz says.

"I mean with us. Are you coming back?"  _He hopes it so badly. Please, Primus, let everything go back to how it was before his brother showed up._

"There's no 'us', Barricade. We're from opposite sides o' tha war, we can't make it work in tha long run." Jazz says quietly.

"I have told you I'd be willing to defect and I mean that."

"I'm with Prowl."

"And that has to be so  _very_  good, since you're out here with me instead of home in your berth with him." Barricade says flatly.

"We had an argument and I needed to clear my helm, get away for a while."

"Clear your helm?! So just the  _drive_  I offered wasn't enough? You couldn't have taken just my friendly gesture? You had to  _fuck_  me to  _clear your helm_?! No, wait, you made love to me exactly the same way you did when there was still an 'us', as if I still mean something to you. You have your conjux-to-be at home and still you just  _had_  to seduce me anyway and make me feel like you want to be with me."  _His spark is breaking all over again._

"I'm sorry, Barricade. I was lonely and hurt and in need of some affection. This was a mistake. We can't do this again."

"You  _used_  me. I've told you I  _love_  you, and you come out here and fuck me just to throw me away like I'm  _nothing_." He spits out with vehemence.  _He feels so fragging stupid, betrayed._

"I'm sorry, Barricade, I..."

"Just go! I don't want to hear it, hear all the lies and half-truths about what you feel. Hear you say that just to reject me and run back to my  _brother_.  _Go_! I don't want to see you!"

A look of hurt, of  _sorrow_  passes over Jazz's faceplates and he hesitates for long moments before he turns, folding into his altmode to drive away.

Barricade picks up a boulder and throws it at the wall of the canyon, screaming out his pain and anger.

 

 

*****

 

 

He's hardly inside the door of the Decepticon base before a plastered Blackout grabs him and presses him against the wall.

"Hey there, little slut. You're going to take  _my_  big spike tonight."

Servos are already pawing at his interface panel.  _The comment hits too close to home after what Jazz just did. He has never felt this cheap before._ He squirms.

"No, I don't feel like it. Let me down."

  
_He can still smell Jazz on his plating and he doesn't want to ruin that, no matter how badly the Solstice hurt him._

"Aaw, come on. I know you like to get that little valve of yours filled properly and you would feel so good around me right now." Blackout pries at his panel. "I'm so fragging horny."

_Everybody always use him for their own pleasure._

"I said I don't _feel_  like it! Let go of me." Barricade growls, onlining his guns.

Blackout lets him down.

"What's the matter, PHS or something?" Blackout sneers.

"Frag you!" Barricade snarls before turning straight for his own hab suite.

He runs down the last corridor and as soon as he's alone behind closed doors, he sinks to the floor and finally allows himself to shatter.

 

 

*****

 

 

Jazz sneaks into his hab suite quietly, heading for his private washracks. He has his servo on the door handle when the lights turns on.

"Where have you been?" Prowl asks from his place on the berth.

"Out. Went fer a drive."

"A  _drive_."

"Yeah. Wanned ta do a li'l speedin' 'n' blow off some steam. Be alone fer a while."

"And blowing off steam  _alone_  inclues meeting up with _Barricade._ " Prowl states calmly.

"I jus' went _out_  for a while by myself..."

" _Spare_  me! I can smell his cheap human carwash solvent all over you. If the  _paint transfers_ were not enough to tell me what you have been doing.  _Who_  you have been doing."

Jazz says nothing. What can he say?

"Was it good? A  _pleasurebot_  has to be good at what he is doing..."

"Barricade is _not_ a _pleasurebot_." Jazz can't help himself when he growls out the defense of his ex-lover.

_Jazz knows everything about being a pleasurebot and every time Prowl uses it as a derogatory term, it_ hurts. _And_ his _Barricade isn't a pleasurebot_.  _He's so much more._

"Apparently, he is loose enough to interface with somebot he is not promised to. Loose enough to interface with somebot already  _betrothed_. Loose enough to interface with somebot from the opposing faction."

"I... I just needed to feel _loved._ " Jazz voice is a weak whisper, but still he defends himself.

"So you went to a  _Decepticon_ , instead of your conjux-to-be. A Decepticon known for interfacing with the entire Con crew..."

Jazz starts to object.

"No,  _you_  listen _._  I have access to the intelligence cameras as much as you do. Barricade is indeed interfacing with every single Con on Earth who will have him. Offering up his valve to all and sundry, as if he is a commodity to use. Maybe that  _is_  his place among the Decepticons? Entertainment for the warriors." Prowl says, voice like ice.

_It's true. Jazz can't deny it. How many times hasn't he watched Barricade be nailed to the berth/wall/table/floor by any Decepticon willing to put his spike into the Interceptor? He wasn't like that before though, something has changed_

"I-I... I'm _sorry_ , Prowl. I was confused and upset..."

"You will be sorry. You are recharging on the couch in the recreational room tonight."

Jazz wants to protest. Prowl moved into _his_ quarters straight away. He's kicking Jazz out of his own room, while the SIC still has unfurnished quarters of his own.  _But he doesn't. He feels too bad about running away to cheat on his betrothed._

Silently, he sneaks off to recharge on the lumpy couch.  _Anything to make Prowl forgive him._

*****

 

 

The second time Jazz comms, he thinks about not answering. But after too short a time dawdling, he does.  _Of course he does._

They shouldn't meet up _._   _Just look at how it ended the last time._ He really doesn't need to poke more in that fresh wound.

_But they do_.

He should say no, he really should, but they fuck.  _Of course they fuck._  Jazz is eager and tells him he misses him so much, tells him how beautiful he is, how much Jazz wants him. Touches him I'm all the right ways and kisses Barricade like there's no one else on or off Earth who really matters.

Then Jazz leaves him again, even though Barricade's still ready to defect, still ready to become an Autobot just to get to be with him for real.

As soon as he's alone, Barricade breaks again. He promises himself to not do this again.

 

 

*****

 

 

Jazz pleads Prowl for forgiveness for his misstep. 

He knows he shouldn't have done it a second time, but Barricade is warm and welcoming and needy while Prowl is cold and distant, resenting the miniscule PDA Jazz so desperately wants to feel loved.

  
_Just a little touch, a kiss, anything to show Jazz that he's loved and wanted._

But Prowl isn't like that. He finds it distasteful to show such wanton behavior in public. Thinks touches should be kept to the privacy of their quarters, but even there, he isn't very tactile. When Jazz tries wrapping himself around his lover, Prowl gets annoyed, thinks that Jazz has learned that from Barricade. It hurts Jazz to know that Prowl would look down on his past if he told him about being a pleasurebot.

  
_Barricade didn't care about his past._

No forgiveness is forthcoming, Prowl is rightfully angry, and Jazz manages to make it all the worse when he touches Prowl like that.

Another night on the couch in the rec room is...  _Well, one night more or less_...

 

 

*****

 

 

Barricade comms Jazz. He usually doesn't, but he needs the Spy, needs loving servos on his plating and soothing words.

Blackout and Nitro Zeus were overcharged and too rough and didn't listen when he asked them to slow down, to take it a little easy.  _They just use him for their own pleasure._  He's stretched out on his berth, sore and shaken.

"What?"

"Jazz? I want to see you. I  _need_  you." He begs.

"I can't get away jus' like tha'." Jazz says stiffly.

" _Please._ I just..." He whispers, not sure what to tell.

"Ya can't comm me like this. Prowl might notice."

" _Please,_  Jazz! I really need you right now." He warbles, on the brink of breaking.

_He so desperately needs some comfort_.

"He's comin'. I hafta go."

_Jazz hangs up on him_.

Barricade falls apart all over again.

  
_It's his own fault. He was the one to flirt with both the flightframes in the first place. And he shouldn't have commed Jazz._

 

 

*****

 

 

The third time Jazz comms, he is adamant about not answering. 

_He still does._

They meet up and fuck and for those hours he feels whole again, carefully avoids thinking about how he's fooling himself, thinking that _this_  time Jazz will stay.

Afterwards, back at the base, Barricade curls up on his berth, hugging himself to keep from falling apart again. It hurts so very bad when he admits to himself that he is the other guy and that is all he will ever be to Jazz. 

It's pathetic, but not  _nearly_  as pathetic as the fact that he'll take that over being nothing more than an enemy to Jazz. He can't trick himself into thinking that he won't pick up the next time Jazz comms, because he knows his resolve will crumble at the prospect of being held by Jazz again.

He downs a cube of high grade, and then another one, before going out to the rec room. He grabs another cube, even though his HUD is blinking a warning about the consumption.

  
_It doesn't fill the void in his chest._

Even when he is so hammered he can't sync his optics, he still feels hollow. So he does the only thing that keeps his loneliness at bay for short moments.

He slides up in the closest mech's lap and opens his panel, grinding down.

"Horny again, little slut?" The mech snickers.

He doesn't answer, busy licking and nipping the mech's neckcables, his jawplate.  _Nobot ever answers that silent plea, never kisses him back._  He offlines his optics and pretends the mech is Jazz.

Barricade's back hits the tabletop and a spike slides into him. Rough servos on his hips, punishing pace. He touches himself everywhere, thinking about Jazz's servos earlier. Wraps his legs around the mech, to keep them from dangling over the edge of the table.

"Such an easy little whore." 

His node is touched and he overloads.

"So needy." Somebot snickers.

The mech fucking him slams in deep and spills inside him with a low growl.

As soon as he steps away, Barricade's ancles are grabbed, his legs stretched upwards to be leaned against somebot's shoulder.

"Want some more, slut?"

He nods weakly, but that hardly matters, because a spike is already inside him. The angle isn't very pleasant, the spike hitting his ceiling node in an uncomfortable way, but he doesn't care to protest.

"Lick this."

Onslaught hold his spike in front of Barricade's face. He does, licks with long strokes of his glossa. Onslaught groans.

"My turn after Onslaught." Somebot growls.

_They all want him_.

He loses himself in his drunken haze, his own servos touching and tweaking, the mech fragging him turning into Jazz in his processor.  _They all are, except they are_ not _. The words are wrong,_ nasty _, the movements tells a tale of lack of care about his pleasure._

_Transfluid all over his face_. Somebot snickers.

"That's hot."

A third mech takes over when the second is done with his valve, more standing in line. He's so drunk, he's almost falling into recharge, half aware of the thrusts jostling him, servos pawing at him and grabbing his plating for leverage, to rearrange him to their liking.

Another mech is on him, in him _._ _They all want him._  Then he falls into blissful oblivion

He reboots much later, all alone on the table in the rec room. He's sore and sticky, laying in a puddle of transfluid, panel still open.  _It's disgusting, he's disgusting_. His spark feels like a void, empty and cold.

Barricade only manages to hold back his pained warbling until he's in his own quarters.

_They only want to fuck him_.

 

 

*****

 

 

Jazz watches him in his cameras. At least, Barricade is pretty certain he does.

_The Cons he's fucking tends to end up in the medbay after the next battle._  Well, he  _is_  fragging them all more or less. But the ones he has had most times

It's kind of sweet. In a crazy-stalker-illicit-lover kind of way, but still sweet.  _Jazz still wants him_.

Barricade himself always aims for Prowl first, but so far, the SIC has been kept far behind the Frontliners and those mechs seems to have developed a severe case of hate-the-Mustang syndrome. He never gets even close to the bastard.

 

 

*****

 

 

Barricade throws an arm over Blackout and crawls closer.

"What are you doing?" The Helo grunts.

"I thought I could recharge here for a while." The Interceptor suggests. Blackout looks at him as if he's grown a second helm. "You know, so we can go again later." He doesn't really want to frag again, but if he can get something close to cuddling, it might be worth it.

The Helicopter snorts. "You're such a pleasurebot, always wanting more. I'm done with you for now and I'm not having you hogging half my berth. Go to your own quarters. Or somebot else's. There might be somebot up for a quick lay."

Barricade starts to get up dejectedly.  _They only want to fuck him_.

"Wait a second. I want to cum on your glossa again. Get back here and get rested enough to take me again." Blackout says.

Barricade almost makes a face. The last time Blackout did that was when him and Nitro Zeus tag teamed Barricade and he didn't like Blackout blowing his load on Barricade's face and in his intake.  _But it's the only way to get to be close to a mech for a little while._

He crawls back on the berth and drapes himself over Blackout.  _It might be worth it._

 

 

*****

 

 

Prowl gives him some leeway. The SIC has calculated a high likelihood that Jazz just needs something he can't give in berth, so he sets up an  _arrangement_.

Pressed between Ironhide and Sideswipe, Jazz is more well fragged than ever. The Frontliners are quite tactile and aren't afraid to be rough or vocal, so the interfacing isn't bad. On the contrary, he enjoys the physical part immensely.

He's still left empty when it's over and the others have left, because what (who) he really needs is pressed between Blackout and Onslaught in another base.

He sees that when he logs into his spyware network, the huge Decepticons handling  _his_  Saleen as if he's some sort of fucktoy, passing him between them. He looks so small between them and Jazz wonders if they don't hurt him.

But the Interceptor mewls and moans just like he does when  _Jazz_  makes love to him and that makes Jazz's spark twinge.

 

 

*****

 

 

Barricade is in the command room and new intel is being presented. Soundwave plays a video clip of Jazz and Prowl from a recon mission the Bots did.

They're hiding out in a hangar discussing how to proceed, to get the intel they need. Nothing interesting, nothing the Cons needs to worry about. The Bots aren't even close to being right about where to look.

Then Prowl touches Jazz.

"And apparently, they have some sort of affair. This is Prowl, as you all know and a grunt designated Ricochet." Starscream concludes.

Barricade can do nothing but stare, spark sinking as Prowl toys with Jazz's plating, his wires. Jazz lies down on his back, spreading his legs and Prowl rubs his anterior node.

_Jazz wants more action than that._

The Spy gasps, gently stroking Prowl's plating. Prowl leans in for a kiss, soft press of lipplates against lipplates.

_Jazz deserves more passion._

On the screen, Prowl slides into Jazz and Barricade wants to purge. The Spy moves slowly, carefully, almost as if he's afraid he'll do something wrong, when he teases Prowl's doorwings.

It's not right.  _His_  Jazz is passionate, uninhibited. Isn't ashamed of enjoying interfacing six ways from Sunday.

"Even their fragging is boring. Not like you, Barricade." Somebot laughs.

The Interceptor might have found it funny, the irony of the Decepticons fucking him at every opportunity finding the mech who actually taught Barricade all about interfacing to seem  _boring,_  but he just can't. Not when he's still watching Prowl interface with Jazz and his spark is breaking because it should be _him_  fragging Jazz into the floor.

Jazz fakes his overload.  _It's fucking obvious he does, how can Prowl miss that?!_  A low gasp and a modest arch of his back, what in the pit is  _that_?! That's not  _Jazz_ , that's a drone reaction.

"Don't learn anything from them, Cade." Somebot leers.

"Don't fucking call me that!" He snarls.

  
_That's Jazz's nickname for him. He doesn't want it tainted._

" _Moody_!" Mohawk cackles.

Barricade flips him off.

"Seriously though, don't take after those two." Nitro Zeus rumbles.

_They never think about his pleasure._

The worst part is that Jazz chooses _that_  over Barricade. Prowl nags him and scolds him and tries to change him, makes him sad with some of his comments. Jazz tells him those things when they meet. Still Jazz doesn't stay in Barricade's open arms.

_He just keeps returning for a fuck or three and then he's off again._

He should give Jazz an ultimatum: all or nothing. The Interceptor certainly has rehearsed that speech over and over. 

_And then he meets up with Jazz again and the Spy wants him and he just can't say the words because then it might be over._


End file.
